


Blessing by the stars, Herald of the scars

by Sippingspringtea (mylifesahell)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I mean sorta, M/M, Mythology References, Not Beta Read, Platonic Kissing, Prophecy, Prophetic Dreams, Prophetic Visions, Some Humor, The dead don't always stay dead... you catch my drift., Warning: does go over Calanthes death, but its not explicit, does this story count as slowburn?, like really plot heavy, platonic intimacy, this is plot heavy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27621281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylifesahell/pseuds/Sippingspringtea
Summary: Jaskier never wanted to be a Herald. The barker of the fates. A human being that could sing the prophecies of men and the world alike. He could see Death. He could see Doom. And he could see Destiny. The divine creatures that held power over this world, there's to use. They spoke through him. Branded by their powers, silver bands that marred his skin. The tiniest and sweetest looking shackles.A Herald held no fate. Bound to others' destinies. And his life was bound to the worlds.And so it goes.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	Blessing by the stars, Herald of the scars

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos, and criticisms are love and life. Hope you enjoy the beginning of the longest fic I've ever written, so far. It has been in the works for some time, and I'm honestly quite excited to share it. 
> 
> So, thank you.

To Jaskier, there had always been a simplicity to writing music. It came naturally to him, as much as breathing. But Jaskier's life was less so. When he was very young, he was found to be a Herald. Rare in the world they were, and bound to fate. A human being that could sing the prophecies of men and the world alike. He could see Death. He could see Doom. And he could see Destiny. The divine creatures that held power over this world, there's to use. They spoke through all Heralds. Branded by their powers, silver bands that marred his skin. The tiniest and sweetest looking shackles.

Jaskier was inherently there's. He could not escape them no matter how hard he tried. He ran, finding a quiet existence in the little town of Posada. Then he met a witcher. Who seemed untouched by fate, and Jaskier jumped at the chance to be with the one who had only a path. Not a plan. It was perfect... or so it seemed...

" Dammit Jaskier," Geralt grouched. " This is the third time you've derailed us for you flights of fancy." 

Jaskier pouted, as heavy rain poured down upon them as they walked the muddy roads of Velen. His cloak was waterlogged, dirty, and his leather shoes slipped in the slick mud. He let out a breath. 

" Geralt, you quite readily agreed with me when I suggested that it would be nice to go to Oxenfurt." Jaskier challenged. " you've been here before! You know how it is, It rains every bloody day." 

Geralt grumbled letting out an unsatisfied "hmm", as he kept Roach at a steady walk. Jaskier rolled his eyes at that. 

" Also, need I remind you that you agreed that we needed a well-deserved break from all... your witchering." Jaskier continued, gesturing wildly." and that you practically started drooling when I mentioned my darling and cozy little apartment there." 

He glanced up at Geralt being careful not to get any rain in his eyes. It would seriously hinder his already terribly difficult walk. He'd tripped several times and Geralt (the bastard that he is) would not take pity on him, and let him ride Roach even a moment. Asshole. Days like these he desperately missed Pegasus. His own beautiful grey mare. She was much sweeter and docile than Roach could ever be.

" That may be bard, but why the fuck are we taking all these back roads?" Geralt asked monotonously. Jaskier stilled. It had been months. And he had been so careful. He saw her, in her red cloak. Striding into the village that they would have passed through if Jaskier hadn't said anything. Doom came before downfall and death. He had felt in his bones, his teeth, his blood. A crawling on the skin. The dread that came before death. It bubbled up inside him easily, the future. He had seen the village succumb to the plague, and he didn't want to see it anymore.

But, he had seen Doom's eyes. Black pools as she watched him steer Geralt in another direction, pulling him away from the death that would ensue. He shivered as her eyes trailed their forms. And from her lips, he heard,

**"Run, run, run little Herald.**

**You cannot escape us forever. "**

Jaskier shook his head at the memory, moving his head to meet Geralt's eyes. He turned his grimace into a grin. 

" I'm a well-respected nobleman Geralt, who knows who'd want to kill me," Jaskier answered easily, the lie slipping from his tongue like honey. 

Geralt snorted. 

" Jaskier, you're a scoundrel, no one would even bother to try. You'd probably manage it yourself somehow."

Jaskier huffed and laughed. 

Oxenfurt was big. And Geralt looked increasingly relieved once they set foot inside the city. It was still raining, but less so and not many people were about. Jaskier gently guided them down the winding streets, until they were at the academy's apartments. Jaskier hadn't taught in a bit, but the students loved him, so the university always kept a spot open for him. And well, all the perks that came with that. Including a nice homey apartment, that was up kept just for him. 

They stabled Roach and made their way into the small apartment. It was a bit cold, there was no fire, but that would soon be remedied. Geralt practically fell face-first onto the couch. Jaskier laughed at that, taking off his sodden cloak. And went to manage what meagre belongings they had travelled with, gently setting his beloved lute on the nearest table. 

"Really, Geralt?" Jaskier said, busying himself. " People sit there, and you're covered in shit."

Geralt growled, although muffled by the pillows. It wasn't threatening at all, a little annoyed maybe. Jaskier snorted. Geralt was tired, Jaskier had seen the dark circles that adorned his face ever since they passed Mulbrydale. A couple of locals had begged Geralt to dispose of a werewolf, and it had been, well, the same as the last three villages they stepped into. Monster after monster. Geralt didn't sleep, opting instead to meditate between contracts. While meditation rested the body so to speak, it also forced the body to stay awake and alert. It was not a perfect alternative to real rest, and after a while, it showed. Geralt would begin to take laboured and heavy breaths after the slightest exertions. He couldn't focus, and became increasingly snappy and irritable. This break was needed in Jaskiers mind. And Geralt had been initially opposed, saying with conviction that witchers did not take breaks, of any kind. Jaskier had snapped at him, and honestly the surprise on Geralt's face was worth it. After a rather massive fight, Geralt had conceded. Jaskier had told him it wasn't a complete waste of time to have a break in Oxenfurt. He would be teaching for their short stay, to bring in some sort of income. Geralt seemed placated after that. 

Geralt was already snoring by the time Jaskier had managed to put some things away. It was amusing to see Geralt this exhausted, and not keeping up the appearance of emotionally detached-beyond human-all powerful witcher. It was surprising and hilarious. Geralt snored like a boar. He was unfortunately still in his armour and had his legs sticking straight off the couch's end. That couldn't be comfortable. But, Jaskier had no intention of waking him up after the week they had. He instead opted to take a bath, and inspect the more undesirable parts of his body. 

He lowered himself into the steaming tub he lugged up to his room. It was warm, and Jaskier began slowly and meticulously scrubbing off dirt and debris. As he worked, his fingers lingered on sharp silver bands that shimmered and encircled his upper arms and his wrists. The claim. The mark. The bane of Jaskier's existence. They tightened, digging into skin, painfully so.

Most Heralds didn't survive their first prophecy. The whole ordeal was torturous,...from what he read. To channel the divine, well, no human body could really withstand that.They were meant to be signs, harbingers, that something was to come. A warning. Jaskier hadn't yet had the pleasure of his first ordinance with the Divines. He caught glimpses sometimes of things that would come to pass. Only minor things. Never world-shattering. Never prophecy material. He was grateful for that. Grateful to still be here. 

Jaskier had long ago realized that he could see the Divines....and they were always around.

Destiny was ever-present, hidden in places you'd least expect her. Cloaked in gold, and held a golden spindle, her iridescent thread woven into all. 

Doom never came quickly. She waited, she watched, twirling a pair of shears in her hands with great pleasure. Using them with deadly force. Cloaked in red, like passion, like blood. 

And, Death. Death was the hardest to avoid. Cloaked in blue were they. Holding nothing in their hands. Death was graceful, and oddly... the least he feared.

And where Death, Doom, and Destiny went   
Jaskier was to follow. Or rather he should have been. Chasing them, doing their bidding. Dictating to mortal men their wills. Jaskier shook his head and continued scrubbing, he chose this path. For however long he had before a prophecy would spill from his lips he'd take it.

Once he was finished he tiptoed down the stairs finding Geralt rifling through one of his books. 

"Find anything you like?" Jaskier asked loudly, announcing himself to the witcher. 

"Hmm." Geralt replied in true Geralt fashion. "You wrote about us?" 

" Huh?" Jaskier cocked his head curiously. Finally taking in the title of the book. Ah, the Djinn. The last wish," I did, it's quite popular." 

" Why?" Geralt asked curiously. 

" Why not? Aside from almost dying the tale is inspiring and romantic!" Jaskier elaborated. " to be fair I...embellished the details a little." 

Geralt smirked. 

" A little?" 

" Alright, alright..a lot." Jaskier conceded. " I never said I'd be accurate with the stories and song material you give me." 

Geralt rolled his eyes placing the book back on the shelf letting his fingers drag across the bindings.

Geralt loved learning new things, it never failed to intrigue Jaskier, on how much Geralt would listen intently to things about philosophy or geography. He especially, Jaskier realized, loved local folklore. Either for just an interesting story or perhaps to debunk it later. But he would sit and listen, didn't matter how inane it was. Jaskier smiled warmly as he watched Geralt peruse the shelf...

With his dirty....blood-caked....gut smelling fingers. 

  
  
Before Geralt could reach out and grab another. Jaskier caught his wrist. 

" You are absolutely filthy!" Jaskier exclaimed. " For the love of... go take a bath! And, you used your disgusting fingers on a first edition! You animal. " 

Geralt looked surprised for a moment. But a small smirk soon stretched across his face in increments, a kinda odd sinister realization twinkled in his eyes. Jaskier bristled at that, Geralt only smiled like that when he was gonna be a bit of a shit. Geralt's pupils dilated like a cat's, ready to pounce. 

It was the only warning he received anyway when Geralt lunged at him. Jaskier tried to duck, but the witcher was faster grabbing him by the waist smearing his dirty, bloody fingers and armour all of Jaskier’s clean shirt and face. 

" Augh, you bastard," Jaskier shouted. " I just bathed!" 

Geralt chuckled smirking smugly at his own handiwork. Geralt gently released him and began moving slowly upstairs.

" Come on Jaskier, the werewolf blood in my hair can't clean itself." Geralt said in his usual monotone voice, as his form disappeared upstairs.

" you're a menace Geralt," Jaskier said under his breath following him. 

Geralt only snorted. 

Jaskier sat on a small stool behind Geralt massaging soap suds into his hair. He wasn't being gentle, after what Geralt pulled he didn't deserve it. Jaskier talked about nothing and everything as the bath progressed. Geralt chimed in every once in a while with a hum of acknowledgment or a question. Geralt was, surprisingly, a good conversationalist. He simply chose carefully when to speak, remaining silent when it wasn't important (or if the individual in question was making him angry).

" Any personal plans for this tiny vacation we're having? Women? Wine? All the earthly delights." Jaskier asked as he walked to a small shelf of oils and ointments. 

" Jaskier," Geralt answered gruffly, lowering himself and relaxing deeper into the tub." I was thinking of picking up some contracts here."

Jaskier stopped abruptly. Spinning to meet Geralt's piercing yellow eyes.

" I thought we agreed that wouldn't be happening for a while." Jaskier said quietly." The last contract burnt you out so badly you could barely walk." 

He saw Geralt flinch, but the witcher steeled himself. 

" I'm on the path, Jaskier." Geralt said with quick resolve.

Jaskier gave him an annoyed look. They both knew that witchers could decide how they lived. Killing monsters was an obligation, sure, but witchers had to be fit to fight as well. Meaning Geralt should logically take a rest. 

Geralt looked away and sighed.

" Two," Geralt started tentatively. " There were two posted on the notice boards as we passed into the city." 

Jaskier rubbed a tired hand over his face. He turned again and busied himself with the oils.

" I know I won't be able to stop you." Jaskier answered. " but that doesn't mean I won't try, and as always I extend my help. The university should have some sort of resources I can exploit for you." 

Geralt hummed behind him.

" Thank you, Dandelion."

Jaskier smiled warmly, Geralt only used that nickname in close quarters. It was something Jaskier cherished, even if it was small and insignificant. Jaskier was for all to use, but Dandelion was a name given to him by only two people in his life. Both whom he loved dearly. Jaskier warmed at that, and gently set the bottle of chamomile oil near the tub. 

" Yes, well, I am your friend Wolf. I'd rather not see you hurt or injured but I can at least offer whatever I can to make everything run a bit smoother." Jaskier said with a slight smile. 

Geralt looked content at that. Something like gratitude flashed across his face for a moment as he carefully rinsed the soap suds from his hair. 

" Now, these contracts. Anything interesting?" Jaskier wondered aloud.

Geralt frowned a moment, going through the information posted on both notices.

" One seems pretty straightforward. Ghoul nest near a cemetery. But, the second one... I'll need more information. Missing people. And corpses have been turning up outside the city drained of blood." Geralt said carefully, already formulating some type of plan for both. 

" Let me guess, vampire?" Jaskier asked crouching down to meet Geralt's eyes properly. 

" There are many types of vampires. Won't know until I inspect the bodies." Geralt added. 

Jaskier nodded, handing Geralt a towel and chamomile oil as he stepped out of the tub.

" Well, that can all wait for tomorrow. Can it not?" Jaskier looked at Geralt expectantly. The witcher had a habit of starting contracts right away without resting his body properly. Which led them to this whole mess in the first place. 

Jaskier eyed Geralt's back where the werewolf from their last village had ripped and clawed at the skin. The wound was still healing, red, and puffy. Without thinking Jaskier reached out and traced a line around the partially closed wound. Geralt shuddered. 

" I wish you didn't push yourself like this," Jaskier whispered, knowing Geralt could hear him. " You haven't even finished healing yet." 

Geralt grunted in response. Jaskier knew if they kept in this line of thought it would devolve into fighting, he stepped away. 

" Dandelion..." Geralt said exasperated. 

What Geralt decided to do was his own to do. That didn't mean Jaskier wouldn't attempt to reason with his stupidity. Or voice his concerns when things got out of hand. The werewolf had decimated Geralt's carefully built energy reserves. He came back to the inn staggering, covered in blood. The werewolves and his own. His eyes were black and dark veins pulsed and protruded all over his body. Jaskier had managed to steer him to the room they shared only to have Geralt unceremoniously collapse onto him. It scared him. It scared him a lot.

" Yeah, yeah. I know." Jaskier murmured, as he quietly left the room. He felt Geralt's eyes trail him out, but he had no reason to look back. Besides, he had some work to attend to.

Trudging back down the stairs Jaskier pulled open a satchel full of papers and tomes. He spread them out gingerly across the wooden table in the kitchen. It had been a while since he had taught, and he needed to prepare notes for his lectures. Professor Bartel was on leave for three months. Jaskier was only filling in for him, the academy had sent him a letter desperately pleading for him to fill the position during that time. Jaskier had agreed, and with it came the curriculum. Jaskier didn't really have to do much, Professor Bartel had thankfully seen to that. But the poor man's notes were terribly dull. Jaskier would have some fun making them a bit more interesting. As much as you could make philosophy interesting. 

Jaskier delicately pulled his hair into a small ponytail and began to read. He could hear silent footsteps down the stairs. Geralt had finished changing. The strong smell of chamomile permeated the apartment. 

" I sometimes forget that you taught." Geralt said coming up behind him to peer at the papers he had spread out. " All your whimsical meandering around the countryside often does the trick." 

Jaskier scoffed. 

" I like my whimsical meandering as you put it, and I also love teaching. It's just... too permanent." He said tiredly. " It had always been my dream to travel Geralt, see the world. I just don't think I'll have enough time to see all of it. Teaching seems like a safer option, once I,...well." 

Geralt seemed confused, a look on his face urging Jaskier to continue his thought. Jaskier tended to overshare, Geralt never seemed to resent his ramblings. But, Jaskier wasn't exactly speaking of old age, a lie prepared itself on his lips and the silver bands on his arms ached.

" I'm getting older Geralt." He said fiddling with one of the books strewn about, he couldn't meet Geralt's eyes. 

" You're not that old Jaskier." Geralt said quickly. 

" Maybe not, but I will be one day." Jaskier murmured. 

It goes unsaid as usual. 

**What will you do when I'm gone?**

Jaskier doesn't know if he's impacted Geralt's long life all that much. He hopes he created some nice memories Geralt can look back on when he's with someone... else. Jaskier looks up to peer into Geralt's eyes. Sadness seems to slowly unfurl on his face. They don't need to talk about it right now.

Jaskier clears his throat and stands up to grab a bottle of wine and two glasses. 

" Let me tell you what I'm working on." He says smoothly changing the subject.

As the night progresses Jaskier's notes go untouched. No new marks are made in the margins and books lie open. The bottles of wine had seen to that. Both parties were pleasantly buzzed, Jaskier was practically draped across Geralt humming some nonsensical tune. They talk about the day ahead slurring their words, not really caring when conversation shifts abruptly. Knowing Jaskier has to wake up at some ungodly hour tomorrow they begin to stumble up the stairs and deposit themselves onto the nearest bed. Jaskier barely manages to remove his shoes as he slips under the covers. Geralt does the same. 

A few seconds pass as they got comfortable breathing slowly. 

" Geralt." Jaskier whispers in the dark. He hadn't bothered to light a candle, too lazy to snuff it out. 

" Mhmm." Geralt hums. 

"Good luck, on the hunt." He says. "I'll want to hear all about it."

"For your next song?" Geralt murmurs back, half asleep. " ghouls aren't exactly entertaining." 

" True. But vampires are." Jaskier answers. 

Geralt snorts, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes.

" I'll never understand what material you get from hunts. My life isn't very interesting." Geralt says softly. 

Jaskier smiles to himself, Geralt always sold himself short. But, Jaskier knew. He didn't know at first when he met Geralt. Had hoped Geralt was someone untouched by fate. How wrong he had been about that. Geralt openly despised fate and destiny, to follow Geralt seemed like a good idea at the time until he saw her at the engagement banquet in Cintra. 

  
Destiny wreathed in gold standing on the throne watching chaos ensue. Her threads of gold wrapped and wove into everything and everyone that night. All except Jaskier who remained untouched. She had looked over at him with a smile, watching him carefully. She took a single slender finger and brought it to her lips. Commanding silence from him. Jaskier blinked once and she was gone. Her gold threads slithering away. And well things escalated from there and Geralt gained a child surprise. 

Geralt has been touched by fate, rather unwilling. But still important.

" My friend," Jaskier began." I cherish all the stories you give me. No matter how mundane they are. But I cherish our moments together more." 

Geralt huffed a short laugh. 

" Gonna write a song about us catching fish or cleaning my boots?" 

" Hmm. Maybe." 

And that was the last thing he said before sleep took him. 

Jaskier dreams of fire. Screams filter in and out of his ears as people pass him by running for their lives. He feels like he can't move, his body hurts. He recognized the square, he is in Cintra. It is night.

Soldiers in black armour ride across the square on wraith-like horses. Blood dribbles from their swords. He is afraid and he can't move. 

The black of the soldier's armour seeps and coil like oil. It drips from their bodies giving them shapeless forms as they screech and kill in the dark. 

One with red eyes and a golden sun emblazoned on his chest growls and approaches him. A raven caws in the distance.

Fear grips, him his body tightens. 

A sword plunges through his chest, as fresh tears mix with blood. 

He falls and lays in the street blood pooling there. He coughs and hacks. He breathes heavily clinging on to life. Something is smothering him. A ragged laugh pierces his ears. 

A swallow lands in the blood. Its wings now stained. But unlike him it is alive. 

**_"Find me. Find me. Find me. Find me. Find me. Find me. Find me."_ ** It sings sweetly. 

He watches as the soldier in black pick up the bird. And crush it between his fingers. Jaskier screams.

Another sword pierces his back and he gasps. This time it pierces a lung, he chokes. And closes his eyes, he can't breathe. 

He can't breathe.  He can't breathe.  He can't bre- 

_ JASKIER!  _

Jaskier please, you need to wake up! 

The voice is garbled and afraid. It feels just out of reach. It comes again louder. Someone shakes him and his eyes flash open. He chokes again, then gasps gulping down sweet precious air.

Geralt is above him, holding his face in his hands. Eyes wide and searching.

" Geralt." He says, voice hoarse from screaming, from tears. "Wha-" 

" Nightmare." Geralt answers in relief. " You were shouting. It woke me." 

Jaskier doesn't say anything swallowing thickly. His fingers are trembling, and his throat hurts. The bands around his arms burn. 

" Dandelion," Geralt says." Are you okay?" 

Geralt doesn't remove his hands, instead moves them carefully rubbing small circles into Jaskiers back. And coaxes the bard into taking some deep breaths. After several moments pass, Geralt stands telling Jaskier he'll be back in a second.

Jaskier clenches and unclenches his hands, trying to relieve some of the pain in his arms. This didn't feel like a nightmare... It felt like a vision. Jaskier had nightmares before, and the silver shackles had never caused him pain. He hopes this is nothing. Geralt returns with a water skin and a thick blanket. He gently drapes it across Jaskiers shoulders and hands him the water skin carefully. 

" Are you with me?" Geralt asks clinically, joining him back on the bed getting as close as he can. But not overstepping his boundaries. 

Jaskier nods, taking a sip of the water. He'd honestly prefer something stronger. But he knows that won't do him any good right now. 

" Do you want to tell me what happened?" Geralt looks at him with contemplative eyes. 

Jaskier thinks for a moment. He doesn't want to lie again, not about this. He nods slowly, closing his eyes. 

" I saw Cintra burn. Soldiers in black overrun the city..." Jaskier begins in a raspy raw voice " I couldn't move. I tried to run but one drew his blade and plunged it into my back. They left me to bleed out until another came and finished me off."

Geralt nods. 

" That doesn't sound fun. How are you feeling?" 

Jaskier gives him a look raising an eyebrow. Because honestly, the words aren't very comforting but at least Geralt is trying. 

" No, it wasn't. I'll be alright, don't fret to hard Witcher." Jaskier answers barely audible, keeping the blanket tight around his shoulders. " Thank you for the water." 

" You're welcome, least I could do considering you've done it for me a hundred times over." Geralt explains.

" True, our nightly routine wouldn't be complete without a nightmare." Jaskier huffs. " could be worse I suppose." 

Geralt hums in agreement, before turning to get back into bed. He gently presses Jaskier to lay back down and relax.

" You should go back to sleep. We both have a lot to do tomorrow." Geralt says with a yawn. 

Jaskier shifts on the bed, attempting to get comfortable again. He wonders if he'll be able to sleep at all. But, Geralt in his infinite wisdom seems to understand this. He scoots as close as he dares to Jaskier and squeezes his shoulder gently, in a reassuring way. Jaskier lets out a shuddering breath, unsure if sleep will take him.

It does. 

Jaskier is up just before the sun rises. He stretches, leaving his snoring companion in bed. Contrary to popular belief, Jaskier is the early riser. He dresses, combs his hair, pulling it back into a low ponytail. Ugh, the downsides of being on the road meant there are no decent barbers. His face is stubbly, scratchy, and ultimately itchy. It ages him. As does his now long hair. He puts on his feathered cap, sighing. 

Wandering downstairs gathering up his things as he goes. He has an early lecture this morning. Setting his bag at the door, he trudged back up the stairs to gather some coins. He moves towards Geralt, shaking his companion slightly. 

" I left you some coins to get breakfast," Jaskier says, as Geralt growls at the jostling. " You should get up soon you brute." 

Jaskier lays a quick chaste kiss on Geralt's forehead. The man groans and says nothing. Jaskier smiles, he busies himself by trying to find his money pouch, was it in one of the drawers? 

" Good luck on the hunt Geralt. Don't die or I'll be very mad at you," Jaskier says, with a smirk, as he finds the pouch filled with enough coins for the day. It was tucked behind some shirts "I'll make sure your funeral is a horrible, disturbing, gaudy mess in revenge if you do."

" You wouldn't." Geralt murmurs, still asleep, still very offended. 

"Ha! You've never seen me at my worst, most insufferable self, Witcher"Jaskier casually answers. 

" What about that time in Oreton, when you-" Geralt begins, a coy smile playing on his lips. 

" You promised me we wouldn't speak of that!" Jaskier cried out, cutting the witcher off, voice raising several pitches. He shuts the drawer forcefully.

" Checkmate, Dandelion." 

" Bastard." 

Geralt hums smugly. He rolls over and Jaskier is left to quietly fume at his back. Heaving a sigh, he sets out onto the empty streets towards the academy. The cold autumn air greets him and the sun is just now starting to peak out over the tall houses and establishments. 

It's going to be a good day. 

  
  


Jaskier decides as he finishes his last lecture, it has not been a good day. He's horribly exhausted, Professor Bartel had failed to mention the lengthy marking he'd be having to do. And the students are so damn timid and shy they wouldn't engage even if a knife was at their throats. Sweet Melitele. Jaskier groans into the papers scattered on his desk. He'd much rather be composing a song about feet than grading papers. The stuffy but quiet office he's currently in does nothing to calm him. He needs music...he needs noise. 

A knock at the door startles him. He groans again. Probably a student coming to demand something from him. 

" Come in, come in!" He shouts, then mumbles " Not like I'm busy anyway." 

He doesn't bother to look at the door as the student in question carefully shuts it behind them. 

" Now, how does a dirty scoundrel and scamp find himself in the beautiful and wonderful city of Oxenfurt." Comes a very soft and alluring voice. 

Jaskier snaps to attention. A beautiful woman stands at the door. Blonde hair cascades gently down her shoulders and a playful smile dances on her lips. A large hat sits atop her head one that would rival even Jaskier's own. As always she looks stunning. 

" Callonetta!" Jaskier exclaims, jumping to his feet. He rushes and hugs the trobairitz and picks her off her feet. He spins them a little before setting her down. She smiles and giggles, her blue eyes sparkle with mirth. Jaskier presses two sweet kisses on both of her cheeks.

" Hello, to you too Jaskier," Priscilla says happily. 

" I thought you were in Novigrad, performing at the Sturgeon," Jaskier states, gesturing for his friend to take a seat on the chair across from his. 

" I was, for a time. As much as I love the city, I needed some change. Went on the road for a while, found a rich patron in this lovely city." Priscilla said, with an exceptionally greedy grin. " They pay me a lot more than the Sturgeon ever did." 

Jaskier nodded. Ah, the bard's life. Finding a wealthy patron and bleeding them dry.

" But, what brings you to the academy?" Jaskier is curious.

" Heard you were in town, with your witcher no less." Pricilla raises an eyebrow cheekily. " Now tell me, where is your better, might I add rational, other half?" 

Jaskier scoffs. 

" He's hardly better, some of the shit he pulls off is the height of stupidity. Geralt's taken a contract." Jaskier admits. Memories flit inside Jaskier’s mind of all the times Geralt just went about stealing things from barrels and people's houses. In front of the guards, with no shame. Or worse mail theft. So much goddamn mail theft. Geralt's saddlebags were filled to the brim with unsent letters. When asked to sort through and discard some, Geralt simply responded that he needed them, and the matter was immediately dropped. 

Priscilla laughs. 

" You're lying to make yourself feel better, Geralt is a fine upstanding Witcher." 

Jaskier pauses. Well, he couldn't really argue with that. Geralt was a wonderful witcher and by extension a good man. He may have strange tendencies, but all in all Geralt's heart was golden. It was a shame the man in question didn't think so. Jaskier hummed, by way of answering.

" How are you, Jaskier, really?" Priscilla said, she stared directly into his eyes.

Jaskier was forced to look away. Priscilla was one of his oldest friends. She already knew all his secrets, too many important moments shared with this woman for her not to know what he hid behind bright smiles and frilly clothes. He trusted her intensely and loved her even more. She had always been one of his greatest loves. They had parted on the terms that they would just be friends, and he liked it better this way. But, he knew that the sentiment was always returned. No matter what. Besides they had eyes for others.

Priscilla gently took a hold of Jaskier's sleeve, she looked at him questioningly. He nodded his consent. She carefully rolled up his frilly sleeve to take in the silver bands there. A sharp intake of breath was heard.

" They've gotten bigger from the last time I saw them," Priscilla says, choosing her words carefully. Tracing her fingers across the band on his wrists. 

Jaskier already knew this. He just didn't want to acknowledge it. 

" I've been having more frequent glimpses as well," Jaskier admitted tiredly. " and a particularly distressing dream last night." 

" A vision?" Priscilla questions. 

" I think so." Jaskier nods. 

" Fuck." She curses in response. " You don't think ...a prophecy is coming, do you?" 

" I don't know," Jaskier says rubbing a hand down his face. He shivers, if Cintra falls it would be a very bad thing. " these things have never happened before." 

" you won't die," Priscilla says firmly. " I won't allow it." 

Jaskier laughs, imagining Priscilla going positively feral on a literal god. She'd valiantly brandish a lute in his honour no doubt. 

" Fortunately, for both of us. That won't happen anytime soon." Jaskier says attempting to placate her. 

" I will worry, Jaskier." Priscilla smiles sadly. " I can't have you leaving so soon."

She brings her forehead to his. And they both close their eyes for a moment. He sighs and clutches her hands tightly. The Divines don't care, they will use him as a means to an end. They will let the world know what is coming to pass, his life as the price.

They talk for a little more before the hour grows late. Priscilla invites him to her next performance at the local tavern. He agrees without having to even think about his answer. She takes her leave and the office is once again silent. 

Jaskier works for a couple more hours, before heading back home. He's tired, exhausted, and his back fucking hurts from how he'd been sitting all day. Jaskier pulled his cloak up to his chin, breathing in the chilly air. It's not a long walk back to the apartment. 

It's cold and empty when he returns, Geralt's things are gone. Off on the hunt. Something curls inside him, a longing, a sadness. He wishes Geralt was here to greet him. A horribly domestic thing, he knows. But, Jaskier likes the content look that settles on Geralt's face when he's relaxed. When there are no monsters to kill and they can sit together and just enjoy the night.

He loved Geralt. He didn't have to mull it over, he didn't have to think about it. He loved him, it was such a simple thing. Geralt was important to him. Even if Geralt didn't return those feelings, even if he just remained a friend. Because Jaskier would die over and over again if it meant he could see Geralt happy or safe.

A short scrawled note lays on the table. It was of course from Geralt simply stating how long he thought he'd be gone for. And as always not to worry about him if he was gone for longer. Jaskier smiled and went upstairs to bathe, and then of course straight to bed after. 

Dreams find him in the darkness. He is in a very ornate room. Reclined, and he is dying. Blood spills from his side. 

_ Jaskier is alone. _

And if they find him they will kill what is most dear to him. They already have.

_He doesn't know who they are._

He can't let that happen. 

He pulls himself up, stumbling, dragging his protesting body to the nearest window. Teetering at the edge. Jaskier sees the city aflame. He can hear the cries of his people. Oh, how he failed them.

Oh, Cintra. 

He sees the black armoured soldiers as they slither through the fire and kill all that he built. 

He was a fool to have not feared them. 

He was a fool to not have feared the sun.

A swallow flies overhead. And Jaskier let's go. 

He falls. 

And falls. 

And falls. 

He hits the cobbled stone. 

And he is dead. 

Jaskier jolts awake, covered in sweat. He breathes deeply. And the bands on his arms are tightening and tensing. His fingers are numb. He gets up shaking and doesn't go back to bed the rest of the night. 

Harder when there wasn't a solid and warm presence by his side.

The next day is worse. His arms hurt and any movement he makes with them stings. He needs to go home and tend to the bruising that is forming. Jaskier doesn't need to see them to know they're blossoming on his skin. 

His skin crawls all day, leaving trails of shivers up and down his spine. Something lurks in the corners of his vision, just out of sight. It frightens him. A sense of dread crawls into his mind. It leaves him twitchy and paranoid.

But, he has a promise to uphold. 

Priscilla performs that evening at The Alchemy, a smaller tavern in the city. Her voice is as always beautiful and delicate. He knows everyone in the room is enamoured with it, just as he is. Jaskier desperately wishes to have brought his own lute, if only then they could have played together after the performance. Priscilla was always willing to help organize his thoughts into a coherent song.

Just as the song finishes his arms seize up and burn. Jaskier gasps in pain, and Priscilla comes to greet him after her set. He clenches his hands tightly and grinds his teeth. He can endure this, he can. 

" Beautiful, as always my dear. You really knocked their socks off." Jaskier manages to say proudly, with a bright smile. 

" I do try." Priscilla chuckles. But her face immediately falls. " Jaskier, is something wrong?" 

Jaskier shakes his head. But, he knows he looks a bit unkempt. The pain had seen to that. 

" Just tired," Jaskier lies. " Didn't have a good night's rest."

For a moment Priscilla looks as if she might call him out on it. She instead smiled wanly. Reaching up with her hands she gently cups his cheek. Priscilla stroked it for a moment before slapping it gently. 

" Then get some sleep, you silly man." 

" I will, not to worry."

Once again the small apartment is dark and cold. It feels more unwelcome than it did yesterday. He sighs scrubbing his face as he enters, setting his things on the table. The wooden floorboards creak. And the windows shudder from a strange and heavy wind. 

Jaskier shivers, the darkness in his apartment seems to grow. It stretches across the wall scratching and moaning as it goes. Jaskier begins to breathe more rapidly when it begins to coalesce in front of him. The black of the shadows turning red. 

Doom towered over him in her red cloak. Her iridescent silver shears inches from his face.

**"Good evening, little Herald."**

Jaskier is stock-still, like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a predator. He'd been running from them for so long. He hadn't realized he'd grown tired and slowed.

She had been stalking him all day. 

The Divines had kept their promise, he couldn't escape them forever. 

**" I see the gift is beginning to present itself."** She said, in a booming voice that shook Jaskier to his core. Every bone in his body felt as if it was coming apart, then putting itself back together again.  **" The veil that separates us from your world is thinning."**

Doom reached out with a clawed hand to grab his arm. She ripped open the delicate fabric of his doublet revealing twin pulsing bands that had only worsened in her presence. She smiled viciously.

Jaskier opened his mouth to speak, but no matter how much he wanted to nothing came. He felt so confused and lost.

**" It shall only be a short while now. Fret not Herald. A prophecy to end all prophecies. The great end, the new beginning."**

He wanted to scream. But she was not finished with him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees gold threads spinning out from the ceiling, forming another figure. This one illuminated the darkness. She clad in gold is Destiny. 

**" Leave him be Doom,"** Her voice is softer, sweeter. But, It does not make Jaskier feel any safer.  **" We have not come to use him yet."**

Doom growls, slashing her long claws against the wood of the wall just by Jaskiers head. She moves away from him, fading into nothingness. Jaskier finds that he can breathe again. 

**" Forgive her, she is impatient, little Mouthpiece,"** Destiny said with a kind smile. **"She has waited long for the coming frost. But, I am not so keen to see the end."**

Jaskiers shock seems to wane, he looks at Destiny with angry eyes. Finally, his body and mind seem to catch up. He falls to his knees. 

Destiny simply sits, waiting for him to collect himself. 

" I just wanted my life free of you, why didn't you leave me be?" Jaskier whispers. 

**" The world will move no matter what you wish. There are things that must be followed through. Old and ancient things."** Destiny begins, "  **You were given to us, and now your time has come to be used."**

**" But, I wouldn't despair. Prophesies are only half-truths. And hope comes in the strangest of forms. You have seen where the end begins, no?"**

" Cintra?" He asks, swallowing thickly. There had to be a reason he was having those dreams. 

Destiny nods. She stands and her tiny gold threads repair the wall and Jaskier's tunic. As she fades he hears her soft voice whisper. 

**" Pay attention to what you saw, and you will know what to do."**

The apartment is quiet again, but Jaskier is crying. They are silent tears, quiet tears. He feels broken. His death so soon that, it doesn't even fucking matter anymore. But, that doesn't mean that he can't try to do something.

He stands dusts himself off, marching over to his satchel pulling out a paper and quill. He takes off his doublet rolling up his sleeves and fervently begins to write everything down. The pain in his arms be damned.

The swallow he thinks. The swallow is important, the more he jots, the more tired he becomes. Jaskier's eyes begin to droop and sleep takes him. 

He dreams of a desolate world covered in ice. Snow bears down in sheets that pound and rip at his body. With leaden legs, Jaskier walks through the drifts.

In the centre of the storm, there is a woman. Her hair is ashen, her eyes pale green. She looks surprised to see him. 

" Dandelion?" She says, shocked. 

" Ciri." He says before he even thinks it. The familiarity of the name swirls in his head even if he doesn't really know it yet. "Where are we?" 

Ciri shakes her head and opens her mouth to speak. 

On the wind, he hears,

**"FIND ME."**

And the storm smothers them both in one great sweep. Jaskier hears a swallows song in the distance.

////

Geralt wakes sometime after Jaskier had left for his lecture. He never liked to wake up early, but years of training and sleeping in the wilderness had forced him to. To many things in the dark that only waited to kill you had seen to his strange sleep schedule.

He got up snatching the small purse of coins Jaskier had left him. The armour he had left out to dry was still damp, but it'll have to do. Better a soggy monster hunter than a dead one. Geralt carefully tied up his hair, it had gotten longer, and unfortunately easily tangled. Unlike Jaskier who took great care in his beauty, Geralt couldn't be bothered.

Although, Jaskier seemed to enjoy it this way, taking extra care with it when he was able. Jaskier liked to brush it and braid it. Geralt had once told him it made him feel like a prized horse. Jaskier had only scoffed at him, telling Geralt that he looked much more approachable and rugged with his hair done. A half-smile tugs on his face at the thought. 

Geralt doesn't bother buying breakfast as Jaskier had suggested. It makes him feel a little guilty when he instead grabs a handful of jerky from his pack scarfing it down. It's a bit stale tasting and has the consistency of leather, but it'll have to do. In the back of his head he can almost hear Jaskier's voice chastising him for spending the money he'd been given on supplies instead. Geralt groans and shakes his head, scrawling a note to his bard. Wouldn't want Jaskier to worry. 

As he steps out into the thoroughfare, people are already bustling about. The autumn air is cool, collars have been turned up to face the rolling winds. A frequent occurrence in Velen after heavy rains.

The sky was dark, and ominous, maybe it would rain again. 

He walked carefully through the city his nose and ears being accosted by every new smell and sound. He gritted his teeth and sped up his pace searching for the address that had been posted on the notice. After some wrong turns and asking around he finally came to a small cottage-like building near Oxenfurt's docks. He knocks carefully on the door. 

"It's open!" Comes a deep voice inside. 

Geralt opens it, stepping through. The cottage is small but cozy. A man sits on a chair near the fire quietly sowing up a ripped net. The man is quite burly, covered chest to toes in tattoos. 

" uh, you Marko?" Geralt asks, crossing his arms over his chest. " I'm here about the notice, I'm a Witcher." 

"That's me." Answers Marko finally looking up from his work. "Yeah, I got a monster problem, ye' read the notice right?"

Geralt nods. 

Marko motioned for the witcher to sit on the stool next to him. He put down his tools and set aside the almost repaired net. Geralt sat down, waiting expectantly for Marko to continue. 

" It started several weeks ago. People livin' round the city have been going missing. Then turn up dead a few days later with no blood. Dried out husks." Marko said with his hands clenched tightly. "People die all the time. And if it's some common nobody. No one cares." 

Geralt had wondered why the contract wasn't commissioned by the guard. People going missing often was cause for concern.

Then again no one really cared when common folk died. Because they died too often for people to care. What were a few missing peasants to the nobles and higher ups of the city anyway? 

" And I didn't care, not until my wife, Nevna went missing," Marko said, his face turning to deep sorrow. "Find her, please...I need to know if she's...she’s.." 

Marko swallowed, but Geralt understood. He nodded, saving Marko the trouble of having to articulate his grief. Geralt first asked if there had been any survivors. He needed to know what the beast looked like. It could give him all the information he needed. If not, he'd need to look for clues elsewhere. Such as the bodies, and locations they were found. 

Marko thought for a moment mulling over the witcher's questions before telling Geralt that there was one elderly woman named Jasna who survived. Pointing the witcher in the direction the woman lived. On the topic of where the bodies were found Marko explained that they were scattered across various places outside the city. Marko then mentioned that if he needed to see the bodies the mortician was a very accommodating man. He himself was also concerned about the situation. 

Geralt thanked Marko, heading out the door but paused a moment. 

"I can't give you any promises that I'll find your wife alive. So, is there anything she was wearing that might distinguish her." Geralt said gruffly. It was the nature of the job, and more often than not there were no happy endings. 

Marko sighed, looking at the silver wedding band on his finger. 

" Her wedding ring. It has a pink misshapen freshwater pearl on it." Marko choked out a wet laugh. " Always said it was the most beautiful thing I ever gave her."

Geralt nodded, thanking Marko for his time. He had some work to do.

Geralt saddled Roach and finally headed out of the city. Jasna, the old woman, lived on a small farmstead. It was farther outside Oxenfurt than he had initially thought, and was surrounded by a small forested area. It was completely secluded and closed off from the surrounding villages. 

Riding up, he could see an old woman in the fields herding some sheep with her long cane. A big brown fluffy dog kept close to her side matching her slow and deliberate pace. Geralt stopped and dismounted, approaching carefully. The old woman stopped as well giving him a wary look. 

" State yer business." The woman said with authority.

" Greetings, are you Jasna?" Geralt asked the woman. 

The woman nodded, gesturing for him to continue. 

" I'm Geralt of Rivia. A witcher." He explained. " I'm here about the beast. I heard you survived an attack." 

Jasna's face softened at that, no longer suspicious of him. 

" Marko sent ye? No?" She asked kindly, giving him a delicate smile. " He came to ask me about it too. No, doubt he hired ya. Poor man." 

Jasna beckoned him to follow her. She began walking towards the homestead, leaving the dog in the fields. 

As they entered the home she gestured at Geralt to sit, but he swiftly declined to tell her he was only here for her story. She made him a warm cup of tea anyway. 

Jasna sat at the old wooden dining table blowing at the hot mint tea she had brewed. She softly set her teacup down and launched into her tale. 

" It was just past midnight, I was woken up by my cows, you see. They were in distress yelling and shrieking in the barn. I thought this was odd, I had locked the barn uptight. I'm old and I can't afford to lose livestock. So I got up to check on em'." 

Jasna took a sip of her tea and made a face. She stood up leaving the cup on the table and picked up a jar full of honey. Geralt watched in awe as she graciously dumped two spoonfuls in. Terribly sweet. 

" Don't give me that look, Witcher. I'm old, I'm tired, and death will take me at any moment. I can do what I want, anyway,... I went to check on my cows. At this point, their shrieking had stopped. The lock on the door was destroyed and could hear scuffling inside, some heavy breathing. Now, I don't consider myself very brave but at that moment I was furious. I grabbed me pitchfork and charged in..." 

Jasna takes another sip of her tea smiling contentedly, at the sweetness. Geralt began tapping his foot in slight annoyance. The old woman raised her eyebrow at that. 

" Patience. So, I charged in only to find a dark figure hunched over my best cow Matilda. The damn monster had gutted her! It heard me come in, cause it stopped what it was doing to charge at me. Tackled me to the ground and fled for the hills. Oh, poor Matilda was drained of all her blood."

Geralt flinched in annoyance. 

" That's it? You didn't see what the beast looked like?" Geralt said incredulously as he finished off his own cup of tea. He had just wasted so much time. Although, it's strange... the creature hadn't killed her. 

Jasna didn't seem all too perturbed by this. She finished her tea and set the cup in the sink. 

" You're a Witcher. I'm sure you'll figure it out." Jasna said with a smile. " come, let me show you the barn, no doubt you'd want to inspect it. I ask you graciously to excuse the mess... I haven't been in there since Matilda died. Had the same lads dispose of her body." 

Geralt sighs, he doesn't have much of a choice. Maybe he'll find something, and today won't be a complete waste. Jasna points him in the direction of the barn, and sets off to do her work. Approaching the barn doors he sees the chain had been completely blasted to pieces. Chunks were still laying in the grass. Strange, thought Geralt. If prey was easily accessible some monsters would go the extra mile to get to them. However, no monster he knew could blow apart metal.

Curious.

Geralt opened the front doors and immediately his nose was overwhelmed by three distinct smells. Cow, blood, and...sulfur? 

Walking further inside Geralt was easily able to locate the pen Matilda had been in. Copious amounts of dried blood stained the floor of the barn. 

" Damn, Matilda really was gutted. Hmmm. Strange there's no blood spatter." Geralt murmured to himself. 

If the beast had been a Katakan, the feeding area would have been extremely messy. The walls of the barn would have been caked with blood. This was all too clean. Getting closer to the pen the stench of sulphur became intense, lingering, and stagnant. Sulphur was used in only certain alchemical formulas. Assuming that Jasna was not the one to leave sulphur lying around...

What would a beast need sulphur for? 

He would have been able to follow the smell if he had arrived when the cow was first killed. By now, he's sure, the smell had dissipated if he tried to follow it.

Looking closer at the bloodstain, something strange caught his eyes in the dark of the barn. Bloody dried footprints, and a distinct blood trail leading out the front of the barn. While several sets of other footprints unbloodied led out the back door. Geralt deduced that the latter footprints belonged to the two men that disposed of Matilda's body.

Only men left boot-prints or man-like beasts. 

Geralt eagerly began to follow the bloody prints out the door and into the fields. 

It led him to a cave. Not just any cave either, an old underground elven ruin. The smell of sulphur was exceptionally strong here. Geralt grunted, quietly wishing he was back in the comfort of Jaskier's apartment, where it smelled of his strong perfume.

" Ugh, that stench." He muttered to no one in particular. 

Traversing deep caverns was a norm for Geralt. It was often a lonely endeavour into the depths of what was probably another monster den. In their earlier days, Jaskier had always insisted on coming with him. Which led them both into heaps of trouble. Geralt couldn't stop the bard or his worry, so off they went into deep darkness together. Which surprised Geralt, he never knew Jaskier to be brave. 

And Jaskier's bravery... or stupidity had saved Geralt's life on many occasions. As much as it had gotten him into trouble. Perhaps both. At the same time.

Jaskier's hands had been steady as a surgeon the night Geralt returned from the fight with the werewolf. When he collapsed into the bard's surprised arms, Jaskier tended to Geralt's wounds. Geralt wondered when Jaskier's nimble fingers had become expert on wound care. 

Wondered when Jaskier lost his fear of blood and death. When his shaking hands became determined and unwavering. Perhaps, was it a musician's secret? 

A fear that Geralt himself couldn't shake. Fear kept you alive. And training kept you standing. 

Geralt sighed.

Jaskier had been acting strange since they had left Mulbrydale. It was subtle, and if someone didn't know Jaskier they wouldn't know to look for it. There was a touch of melancholy about Jaskier, an accepted sadness that was so unlike the bard, who sought out merriment and mischief everywhere he went. But, the worst were the moments when Jaskier had delved into long stretches of silence. The bard muttered, rambled, and talked just to fill silence on most days. He was the one to carry conversations, not Geralt. Which filled the Witcher with anxiety when the bard seemingly just... stopped.

Geralt intended to confront him when the hunt was over. Surely whatever was bothering Jaskier he could help with. 

The cave was opening up, great elven statues rose up lining the walls all around him. In the centre of this cavern was a lab of some sort. Beakers filled with strange-smelling liquids filled the shelves surrounding the area, making Geralt's already abused nose tickle. But there was also another sort of something that permeated the air. His medallion hummed softly at his breast. Magic.

The sulphur smell was strongest here too, no doubt the centre of experimentation. Geralt's theories of this being any type of monster had evaporated. This felt like a mage's study. 

On a stone slab next to the lab equipment was a corpse. A woman to be exact. Her body was drained of blood and thick gashes like circular bands encircled her upper arms and wrists. She was only recently dead. Geralt inspected the body carefully when his eyes caught the glint of a silver ring with a pink pearl inlaid in it. With a heavy sigh, he pocketed it.

Something dark and angry twisted inside Geralt. Markos' wife had been missing for some time. There was no doubt in Geralt's mind that whoever was killing people was experimenting on them, keeping them alive for as long as possible. 

But for what? 

Geralt glanced back at the long table that carried all types of alchemy sets. Some Geralt was familiar with, others were foreign to him entirely. Stacked in the corner of the desk were some books and notes. All in elvish,... except for one. The tome was green, a humble sort of book, which had seen better days. Torn and ripped in odd places and definitely yellowing in some spots. It was smaller than its elven companions in size. But stuffed in it's pages were notes. Geralt wasn't sure what about the book intrigued him or drew him to open it first. Perhaps it was how small and overlooked it could be. Or maybe it was because it was the only one written in common. 

The book's title read:

_ The Difference Between Heralds and Oracles, A Study _

_ By, Theravin Dalen Dolorus Archmage of Rivia _

With Geralt's own interest peaked he opened the book to its first page. In loopy cursive, a small handwritten note graced the cover Geralt began to read...

_ To my loving Dea' Vorn,  _

_ This book came into my possession on my last trip to the world of the Aen Sidhe. As you are a collector of all artifacts from that world I thought you might appreciate this tiny book.  _

_ I'm sorry I wasn't there to deliver it in person.  _

_ I miss you,  _

_ -N _

As Geralt turned the page, more writing accompanied the note but in a hasty and shaky hand....

_ I don't know exactly as to why I'm writing this here... but to write it anywhere else would feel like a betrayal to... him. _

_ I have been tasked with a great purpose. By the king's command, I am to find a new oracle for our world. I am a skilled sage, I do not doubt my abilities...but things can go very wrong for me here.  _

_ Vaneera is dead, the last oracle of our world, she alone could have discerned where the child of the elder blood hides. And all attempts at cultivating the elder blood gene have failed. The King is desperate.  _

_ The white frost has advanced. The sages are doing everything in their power to stop it. I fear if I do not succeed in finding a new Oracle our world will cease... and I will die. Either at the hands of the king or the snows. _

_. _

.

.

_ The world of the Aen Sidhe has grown grey and dull. To find an Oracle among these humans...I cannot fathom it... _

_ We have raided their world many times, and still the humans prove that they are only good as slaves... _

. 

.

.

Geralt saw that parts of the book had been underlined or circled. He began to read once more...

.

.

.

_ Oracles weave chaos much like any sorcerer or sorceress. Their abilities rest on their talent for the craft. Those that are more inclined to this field of study have a natural magical aura that surrounds them, one that can be easily picked out. Oracles do not have visions or prophesize, they weave chaos to snatch moments from the future. However, their foresight is often ambiguous and hard to decipher. Which can often lead to misunderstanding the signs. Oracles are still rare in the world, only a few recognize their talents. And in many, the ability remains dormant forever. _

_ Heralds on the other hand are a much rarer occurrence. Sometimes referred to as seers, a herald's abilities are bestowed by divine powers upon their birth. Otherworldly and separate from the magic that is wielded by common sorcerers. They are hard to find as their powers only present when the world is on the brink of change. Heralds channel the divine into the mortal plane, relaying all that is to come to pass. Either through visions or great prophecy. The gift is always accurate. _

_ Heralds are marked by the gods with silver bands that encircle both wrists and upper arms. Unfortunately, Heralds do not live long. Channelling the divine often leads to the death of these rare beings as it takes a great toll on the body. It is unknown if any have ever survived or have continued using their gifts. _

_ And whether one believes in divinity is another matter entirely… _

.

.

.

Geralt had heard of Oracles that served at courts for kings and queens alike. Oracles could use their magic to look into and see the future. They were sought after as they could steer any land from certain doom. But Heralds, in Geralt's mind had always been a fairytale. Something locals would come up with to feel better about their shitty lives. Blaming all their problems on divine influence.

But whatever this Dea'vorn wanted couldn't be good. Geralt continued reading the hasty scrawl...

.

.

.

_ I have been tracking these auras and spying on their owners. Peasants the lot of them, but to have their abilities manifest is another obstacle in my search... _

_ Several techniques used by the sages require the use of heavy alchemical ingredients. Others are older and more ritualistic. These are rather... unsavoury. But I will try.  _

.

.

.

_ My experiments have been going poorly. None have manifested any ability to weave chaos. The decoctions I have brewed have done nothing. And the bloodletting simply makes them die faster. _

_ The use of cow blood in the last ritual was a mistake. I shouldn't have attempted something this old and experimental. _

.

.

.

_ They are sending someone to check in on me soon. I am ruined. I have nothing to show for the months I have been here, save for a pile of sulphurous corpses. They will hand me off to the riders and kill me, as they've done to...others. _

_... I want to go home. I wish to see the rolling fields of Tir na Lia once more... I wish to see.. my love once more.  _

_ Will this all be worth it in the end... will finding the oracle truly bring us closer to the elder blood.  _

_ I can only hope. _

.

.

.

_ All is not lost! I have found my saving grace. This aura is different, strange, and new. So similar and yet otherworldly from the ones that I have encountered before. Bright and strong with powers that have clearly been awakened.  _

_ Just when all has failed. This man has fallen into my lap. I have been tracking him for several days now. The subject appears to be some sort of minstrel? I must find a way to lure him to me, but he travels with some oafish white-haired brute. A bloody Witcher of all things. This will be tricky.  _

. 

.

.

_ I have continued scrying on the subject. And I have made a startling yet exciting discovery. This bard is no oracle. I have stumbled upon a Herald! The more I focused my energies on uncovering his aura, the more defined it became. There is no mistaking the brilliant bands _

_ I must get him to Tir na lia. The necessary materials need to be gathered.  _

_ A stable portal back home will appear with the fall equinox. My timing must be perfect. _

.

.

.

Geralt's grip on the small book had tightened, so much so, he almost ripped the damn thing in half. New revelations and barely contained rage wormed into his head. It wasn't hard to figure out who this mage was speaking about. 

He was angry for many reasons. The first being Jaskier's deception. The mage could have been wrong. Maybe he made a mistake, maybe Jaskier didn't know himself. However, if Jaskier did know...why wouldn't he tell Geralt? 

Geralt knew there were things the Jaskier kept close to the chest. As did he. Somethings that couldn't ever be spoken aloud. Geralt never asked about Jaskiers past as a noble. He knew well enough that this was a sore place for Jaskier. Just as Jaskier knew never to ask about Blaviken again.

But, this ability that Jaskier carried with him would kill him.

Geralt's mind stopped. And some unnamed emotion grabbed and ripped at Geralt's core.

You always knew he would die...

But...not now...not so soon.

Geralt shook the thought from his head. He shouldn't assume anything. Jaskier is probably fine, these were a mad man's scribbles.

They had promised to be more honest with others after the mountain. Perhaps this too was painful for Jaskier. The more Geralt thought about that the more his anger dissipated. Jaskier didn't have to tell Geralt anything. But damn it, he wanted to know. 

Geralt's anger still lingered for the mage. This mage believed he could snatch Jaskier from under his nose. This mage, whose intention was to use Jaskier for gods knows what. This mage who had no regard for the innocent lives he was snuffing. 

This mage was gonna get the pointy end of his fucking sword. 

Geralt placed the book into his pack. With quiet resolve, he kneeled in front of the stone slab and meditated. 

It was several hours before Geralt heard the soft approach of steps. Gracefully, Geralt withdrew his steel sword. The runes danced in the light of the cave illuminating his hands and face. In the darkness, a figure approached cloaked in all blue. In their hands was an interesting concoction of alchemical ingredients. Many of which would induce deep sedation and sleep. 

" I see I have company," Said the mage. " and not just any company... the witcher." 

Geralt grit his teeth. He hated mages as much as he hated portals. Yennefer being the exception, they were all talk, schemes, and lies.

" Hmm. You must be Dea'vorn". Geralt answered. 

" At your service witcher," The mage said, pulling back his hood.

A very strange looking elf stood in front of him. Many of the elves in this world had softer features. But this elf, Geralt could only describe as sharp. His cheek bones were high and pointed. Piercing blue eyes that felt as if they glowed and a shock of long pale hair framed the man's face. 

" Have you come to protect the innocent? Kill me because I've ended a few lives. Please witcher I'm no monster." The elven mage drawled. " I am simply fulfilling the grand purpose of the Aen elle."

Geralt grimaced, his hands tightening on his steel sword. This mage's grand purpose was attempting to capture Jaskier.

The smell that emanated from the corpse on the altar made Geralt's stomach turn. If it was Jaskier on the stone table...

Geralt grunted, and charged. 

"Shut up and fight." Geralt growled.

The mage shrugged. 

" So be it." And the mage raised his hands and cast a spell.

Deep tendrils of ice shards shot out at Geralt who defensively raised his hands and made the sign for quen. The shield buzzed around his body just as the force of the magic hit him. The shards impacted his torso blowing him back across the room. 

Quen had taken most of the damage, thankfully, leaving Geralt to right himself and get a better grip on his sword. Geralt grunted.

The mage seemed to prefer ice magic, as more icey shards flew towards him. He managed to dodge this time spinning his way closer to the mage. With a well-timed aard, the elven mage fell to the ground squirming. Geralt raised his sword and plunged it into the elf's stomach.

Dea'vorn screamed, shakily extending his fingers attempting to cast something. A sound like cracking ice was heard behind Geralt. Whipping his head around, Geralt saw a silvery portal manifest itself in the room. Although, it did not look stable. The portal flickered and wobbled. Geralt knew enough about portals to know that was a bad sign. 

Geralt's surprise was quickly turned to dismay. The mage was trying to escape. He pulled back his sword ready to plunge it once more into the elven mages body. But, Geralt's short distraction proved long enough for the mage to slither his way out of Geralt's clutches.

The mage stood next to the portal with rage-filled eyes. Holding his bleeding stomach, he held Geralt's gaze.

" I'll be back for your bard Witcher." The mage said with a sneer.

With that, the elf dove through the portal. One that would most likely lead to certain death. A chance the mage was willing to take. The portal quickly shut, leaving Geralt once again alone in the large empty cavern.

Geralt breathed heavily, the mage's words ringing in his ears. He swallowed thickly, sheathing his sword.

A longing nagged at his heart, he needed to return to Jaskier. Make sure that his bard was truly well. And while he had no doubt that he was right, worry still managed to worm its way into his heart. 

The mage had seemed pretty adamant about coming back. But, there was no way that the portal was stable enough for anyone to travel through. 

Geralt sighed, forcing his mind to think of better things.

He smiled at the thought of Jaskier greeting him at the door with happiness and joy that was only reserved for him. And Jaskier would hug him tightly, and pull all of Geralt's stories from him with ease.

Maybe not this one.

He trudged his way back out to the cave's surface. On the world above it had begun to rain. The sky rumbled and flashed with lightning. Geralt looked up at the sky and huffed annoyedly at the rain. It was already soaking through his armor. He had already had enough of being wet and damp.

" Fucking storm." He muttered to himself as he set his way back to the farm where he had left Roach. 

Although, the hour had grown late. The old woman, Jasna, was still awake. As Geralt approached the small farmstead Jasna came out into the storm. Her lantern swung and swayed in the wind, Roach followed carefully behind her, led gently by her reins.

" Witcher," Jasna said kindly. " You left in such a hurry, you forgot your mare. Don't you worry, I took extra care of the dear." 

Geralt grunted. He knew that Roach could take care of herself. There were many occasions Geralt needed to leave Roach in the wild. By some unknown magic, she was never harmed when he returned.

" Thank you." Geralt said 

Jasna smiled, but her face grew serious as she handed over Roach's reins. 

" Tell me. Did you kill the beast Witcher?" Jasna asked carefully. 

Geralt slid into Roach's saddle not saying a word, the mare snorted. 

" I did." Geralt lied, guilt already manifesting itself. 

Jasna's somber face grew jovial. 

"Thank you kindly, Witcher," She whispered.

Jasna waved as Geralt pushed Roach into a canter. Setting off for the far off and distant lights of the city. 

The rain was still pelting down upon him when he got back to Jaskier's lodgings. Geralt could see the faint light of a candle inside. The bard was still up, no doubt scribbling new song lyrics or penning some papers. 

He opened the door carefully attempting not to startle Jaskier. The bard did not have a Witcher's sense of hearing, and years playing in loud taverns had dulled it somewhat. The last thing Geralt wanted to be was an intruder.

To his surprise, the house was eerily silent. There was no scratching of a quill on paper or the distracted humming of a bard. Just silence. 

Geralt found Jaskier slumped over the table papers strewn everywhere. Jaskier's form was very still, twitching occasionally, dreaming then. Coming closer Geralt could see thick silver bands on Jaskier's exposed arms. They glowed softly in the dim light. 

His eyes widened.

And a horrible creeping realization hit Geralt like a sack of bricks. One that he had hoped was not true. 

///

Jaskier jolted awake when a pair of calloused roughened hands gripped one of his arms. The hands had been delicately inspecting them. 

"Geralt, You're back!"Jaskier exclaimed half sleepily, pushing out of his chair to embrace the sometimes stoic Witcher. Geralt was soaked from the rain but Jaskier didn't mind.

"How was the hunt?" Jaskier asked genuinely. 

Geralt looked at him searchingly and sadly.

" Jaskier, what are these?" Geralt asked, his voice wavering slightly as if he didn't really want an answer. As if he already knew.

Jaskier followed Geralt's gaze towards his own arms and the shimmering light of twin bands. 

Ah.

Jaskier rubbed his hands absently. The bruising on his arms had all but disappeared. Destiny must have mended more than just his shirt when she left. 

He had been meaning to tell Geralt many times. But how do you tell someone that what you are will kill you. Perhaps he was a coward, looking only for happiness. A fleeting thing, as happy emotions often were. 

He berates himself for lowering his guard. For pulling up his stupid sleeves. But, Geralt has a right to know, he always had.

" I- this isn't how I wanted to tell you." Jaskier began timidly. " It was going to be much more poetic and dramatic...alas here we are."

Jaskier forced some levity in his voice. He wanted an explanation to simply spill from his lips, this shouldn't be so hard. 

" You're a Herald." Geralt blurted out suddenly." I read about the marks." 

Jaskier took a long slow to exhale. Of course, Geralt would recognize them, his job was to be versed in all manner of otherworldly things.

" Why didn't you tell me?" Geralt asked. 

" Dammit!." Jaskier breathed sharply, attempting to assemble his thoughts into something coherent. "Geralt, you have your own problems. I didn't want to add to the shit that you already have to deal with. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. But I was concerned you'd..." 

Imagines of a dragon hunt and a mountain come into Jaskier's mind. Old emotions and doubts churn angrily inside. But he wills them away. No reason to dwell on the past, not when it has been put to rest.

" I would've dealt with this just fine, you know that Jaskier."

Jaskier huffed. "forgive me for trying to spare you." 

" I don't need to be spared from anything," Geralt said. " You were acting strange since Mulbrydale with the werewolf. Was it because of this?" 

Jaskier's already tired expression turned 

resigned. He nodded. " in part, yes. I had lied to you for so long it was beginning to weigh on me, among other things. But, the other was the werewolf." 

Geralt raised a questioning eyebrow, seemingly urging Jaskier to continue. Jaskier clenched his fists.

" Do you know how scared I was for your life when you returned? I've seen you hurt, but not like that." Jaskier fiddled with one of his sleeves, he looked down at the floorboards. " I thought you were going to die." 

Geralt shook his head, reaching out to grab Jaskiers shoulder and pulled him into a sincere but awkward hug. Jaskier knew there was nothing Geralt could say to reassure him, this was a part of his profession.

Jaskier sniffled. " Gods. I should be used to it by now. But, I just want you to be safe." 

"I promise you I'll try." Geralt said. 

" I don't think... you can make that promise Geralt" Jaskier wiped his tears." Now, I'm sure you have some questions..." 

Geralt nodded. 

" When were you going to tell me that your gift would kill you?" Geralt asked, stress creasing his brow.

Jaskier stilled in shock. Well, he didn't expect Geralt to know that. 

" Oh," Jaskier answered quietly. "Right, yeah, that."

Geralt hummed. Once again using his silence to put Jaskier on the spot. 

" I won't have my date with destiny quite yet," Jaskier said. It wasn't exactly a lie, the divines had said they'd be arriving soon, but, not yet. " Don't you fret Witcher. I'm going to stick around for some time." 

Geralt snorted. 

" Oh, the horror." Geralt said lightly. 

Jaskier smacked him on the arm.

" Jesting aside, I am glad you'll be staying in the land of the living Jaskier." Geralt's smile was small but kind. 

" Really, I couldn't tell." Jaskier chuckled and smiled in return, although much more wanly. 

Geralt patted his shoulder and began moving upstairs to go remove his armour. Jaskier gathered and folded his notes hastily, leaving them on the table. He then moved to follow the witcher, as he complained about the rain. Geralt's soggy armour squelched and squeaked strangely as he walked up the stairs.

"I am too, Geralt. I am too."Jaskier whispered sincerely.

///

Geralt felt relief and guilt swirl within. Relief about Jaskier's predicament, that the bard would be staying in the world of the living. Guilt that he hadn't told Jaskier what and who he had really met in the cave. The bard had certainly pressed him about it, but he refused to say a word until he took care of a few things. Namely his armour. 

He sighed and took off his armour, piece by piece. Placing them to dry.

Jaskier had been kind enough to draw him a bath. Doting on him like a mother hen, insisting to check him for injuries. He was able to shoo the Jaskier away, long enough to seat himself in the steamy hot bath. Before he could fully relax the door burst open. 

" I apologize, but I have never been a patient man. Are you going to tell what the fuck you encountered in that cave? Or am I going to have to beat it out of you?" Jaskier said, annoyed.

" is that a threat?" Geralt wondered aloud, beginning to scrub himself. 

He smirked when Jaskier narrowed his eyes, giving the witcher an exasperated expression. 

" Definitely. Given the fact that you're naked and sitting in a tub, I say my chances at successfully enacting violence on you are high." Jaskier said somewhat smugly. 

Geralt grumbled under his breath. He and Jaskier both knew that Geralt had fought his way out of far more compromising positions. But, he wasn't about to remind the bard about that. 

He sighed once again. Telling Jaskier about Dea'vorn would feel strange. Something he omitted from their previous conversation. But Geralt wasn't the type to keep secrets. So without much fanfare Geralt lets the truth slip.

Jaskiers smug face turned into a deep frown. One that only deepened as Geralt finished. 

" That wasn't what I expected...," Jaskier murmured. " What did he intend to do with me?" 

Geralt thought for a moment, shaking his head.

" I don't know, he wanted to bring you somewhere. Present you to his king.." Geralt answered. 

Jaskier looked slightly conflicted. 

" Is this how you knew what I was? You didn't seem as surprised as I thought you would." Jaskier asked carefully. 

Geralt hummed in answer, nodding to clarify himself. 

" I wasn't sure, he could have been lying." Geralt said softly. 

" But, he wasn't," Jaskier interjected quickly. " He knew what I was." 

" He's dead now. It doesn't matter." Geralt said a little stubbornly. 

What is done, is done. The sorcerer was dead. He couldn't come back.

Jaskier grunted, then chuckled to himself. 

" This won't make a very good song," Jaskier stated aloud. 

" You still have ghouls to fall back on." Geralt suggested. 

Geralt continued to scrub at the dirt that was lodged under his fingernails. He could feel this particular conversation coming to a close. 

Glancing at his companion, Geralt could see how tired Jaskier was. It was late, many things had happened upon his return. Dark circles adorned Jaskiers eyes, as he leaned against the tub. Blue eyes soft and hazy. Needing sleep. 

" I'm sorry for waking you," Geralt admits. " When I arrived." 

Jaskier smiled softly in response. 

" No need to apologize. Haven't been sleeping well the last few nights, anyway." Jaskier says. "Nightmares." 

Geralt was surprised. Jaskier was never one to suffer from night terrors as he did. Geralt now felt terrible for rousing the bard from his sleep.

" You need to sleep Jaskier." Geralt answered rather obviously. 

Jaskier raised an eyebrow, a coy smile playing on his lips. 

" And here I thought staying wide awake would remedy sleeplessness," Jaskier muttered sarcastically. 

Geralt snorted in response. He didn't know many remedies for sleep, often trying the most drastic measures himself. However, Oxenfurt had plenty of herbalists he could ask to create a simple remedy for his friend. But, tonight Geralt would have to get the bard to sleep by other means. 

The bath didn't take long, Geralt was soon dry and dressed. He gently nudged the sleepy bard into bed, Jaskier mumbled as he went. Protesting and grumbling, but did not once stop Geralt from manhandling him. Geralt tucked them both into bed. He wasn't quite ready to sleep, at least that's what he told himself. 

He stayed awake, just for a little while. Perhaps, to make sure Jaskier didn't have any nightmares.

The night turned to quiet dawn and the spot next to Geralt was suddenly empty. A note written in loopy cursive sat on the bedside table. Jaskier had gone to his morning lectures and would be gone most of the day. They would reconvene this evening. 

Geralt had many errands to run that morning, but carefully and slowly. Strapping his swords to his back Geralt left his armour, it was still unbearably wet. 

He felt tired, as he exited the apartment. Muscles aching and protesting as he went, the pain of overexertion from the werewolf and his last fight finally catching up to him. The wound on his back where the werewolf had dug its claws in burning. The light clothing he wore did little to help soothe the aching there.

Geralt sighed, realizing that he might have to replenish his stock of herbs. He couldn't even make Swallow.

But first, he had something he needed to finish up. The pink pearl on his pocket suddenly felt unbelievably heavy.

He made his way back to the docks with relative ease. The early morning light making the river glitter gold. Marko was seated, at the end of one of the piers fishing calmly. Geralt cleared his throat making himself known to the fisherman. 

Marko whipped his head towards Geralt, getting up and quickly straightening his jacket.

" Witcher, ye've returned." Marko began, an edge of hope in his voice. " My Nev... is she..." 

Geralt didn't like to lie, but one quickly formed in his head. On occasion it was better just to tell a lie, than to tell the drawn-out truth. He doubted Marko would take the truth kindly.

" it was a Katakan. A type of vampire that killed your wife. I chopped the damned thing up." 

Geralt pulled out a bloodied fang from the last Katakan he had killed. The tooth was slightly old but Marko didn't seem to notice. He then produced the ring from his pack, giving it to Marko unceremoniously. The man huffed back tears, clenching his large hands around the small pink ring. 

" Thank ye, Witcher. At least the bloody thing won't be going after any more people." Marko said softly. 

When Marko pulled out a stack of coins Geralt simply declined. He felt he didn't deserve it. There was no monster. Only a man and the witcher didn't deal in men. 

He quickly left soon after, moving on to the merchant district. He was in need of a herbalist and perhaps...some small concoction to remedy Jaskier's sleeplessness. He wasn't about to let his friend go another night without rest. He knew how the bard got after several sleepless nights.

Geralt sniffed the air, looking for the acrid scent of boiling herbs. Although muddled up and intertwined with the other smells of the market, Geralt picked up on one. It led to a small merchant's tent that was tucked away from the bustling crowd. Geralt was intrigued, no one seemed to be aware of it, passing it by without a glance. With a shrug, Geralt stepped inside. 

The first thing that greeted him was the smell. It was so strong that Geralt's eyes began to water, as he fought the overwhelming desire to sneeze. The interior of the tent was larger than it had appeared. Walls were lined with shelves full of ingredients, and ready-made potions.

The second thing that greeted him was long black hair, and eyes the colour of violets in bloom. Eyes that widened in surprise, then anger, then resignation.

Geralt's own surprise coloured his face, swallowed thickly as he took in the visage of Yennefer of Vengerberg. 

" Geralt." Yennefer said accusingly, her intonation was certainly not questioning. She was still angry and rightfully so.

" Yennefer." Geralt said quietly, softly, he wasn't here to fight. He lowered his eyes in submission. " I didn't expect to see you in Oxenfurt, what are you doing here?" 

She eyed him coldly. Searching him for...something. Delicately, she placed whatever brew she was concocting on the table in front of her.

"I see your wish is still active, for a moment I thought I was truly free of you." As usual, Yen cut at the heart of things. She wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. 

Geralt adjusted his gloves, fearful of Yen's gaze. Several months ago, he wouldn't have understood how intrusive his wish truly was. It was unfair to Yennefer, to bind her to him like this. It put whatever feelings he and Yen had for each other under intense scrutiny. Were they the makings of the wish or genuine?

" I'm sorry." He blurted, knowing that two words couldn't undo a djinn wish. " You don't deserve what I have done to you. I've bound you to me carelessly, without a thought of how you felt. I-."

Yennefer raised a hand to stop him, and Geralt finally met her gaze. 

" I don't need your apology Geralt, nor do I want it. It cannot undo anything, it doesn't stop me from feeling angry at you, nor does it soothe your mistake." Yennefer began. " We can't be as we were before. But, I would like for us to move on from here." 

Geralt nodded slowly, she was right. The guilt would never truly wash away. They could only live with it now. Yennefer seemed placated by this and began brewing once again. 

" Now, what did you really come here for?" she wondered aloud. 

And just like that Yennefer was back to business. Geralt smiled lightly. 

"Herbs," Geralt deadpanned. 

Yen rolled her eyes at the obviousness of that statement and sprinkled grey powder onto her brew. She quickly corked it and set it aside to cool. 

"Please Geralt, I am in no mood for jests." Yen complained. 

" And something to soothe insomnia and nightmares." Geralt added. 

Yen raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. Geralt handed her a list of potion components. He was running dangerously low on Arenaria. She glanced at it quickly before gliding over to one shelf and grabbing what she needed. 

" Finally taking non-drastic measures to get yourself to sleep, Geralt? Learned your lesson about toying with dangerous magics." Yen said sharply. 

Geralt shook his head as she handed him the packaged and sealed herbs.

"It's not for me." Geralt answered. 

"Then who?" Yen asked curiously, as she once again began concocting. 

"Jaskier." Geralt stated simply. 

Yennefer hummed.

" Of course, I was wondering when you'd reconcile with that brightly dressed fool," Yen said rudely, but certainly not seriously. " I was growing tired of his...particularly weird sad-angry songs." 

Geralt cringed. There had been a time after the mountain Jaskier...had written, some particularly slanderous songs against him. Jaskier had later apologized profusely for them, saying they were a creative outlet for his anger. Geralt didn't exactly believe him, but what was done was done.

"Hmm." Geralt said as an answer. 

Yen smiled knowingly. 

" So, where is that prancing peacock?" She said. " I'm surprised to say this, but I genuinely would like to see him." 

Yennefer neatly wrapped the herbs and medicinal concoctions. She shoved them into Geralt's hands roughly. Geralt raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

" Working," Geralt answered. " He should be around later." 

Yennefer choked on her own spit as she moved around her work table. 

" Working! You're joking," She said looking at Geralt incredulously. " That man does not work." 

Geralt was once inclined to agree. But, it seems that...many things had changed since the mountain. Jaskier continued to surprise him.

" He's a professor here in Oxenfurt." Geralt explained. 

Yennefer's eyebrows raise high on her forehead, but she doesn't comment on that. Instead, she walks around her work table, grabbing her cloak. She pushes Geralt gently out of the tent and follows him soon after gingerly. With a snap, the tent collapses and disappears discreetly as if it was never there. 

" Because I'm feeling particularly amicable today, I'd like to catch up with you," Yennefer says honestly. " And I'd like to see the bard." 

Geralt simply nodded, and off they went back to Jaskier's lodgings

///

Jaskier was in pain, everything in him was pain, it shook in his core and broke at the seams of his body. His skin felt too small, for whatever was churning underneath it. Chaos and power that should not be trapped in a mortal body. Bruises bloomed like flowers under his skin. The bands on his arms pulsed unnaturally. Glowing so brightly underneath his clothes he was forced to wrap them in spare bandages.

He awoke nauseous, pale, and clammy. But, he forced and pushed himself through the day. 

He pushed himself to get out of bed.

He pushed himself to go on teaching as if nothing was happening. 

He was going to burst. Simple as that, and honestly not the worst way to die according to Geralt.

The twilight air was crisp, perfect for the first day of fall. Jaskier could just make out the setting sun peeking out behind some tall homes, just barely illuminating the street.  The cold felt good on his aching skin, as he walked home. 

He knew somewhere deep in his heart that he would die today. He felt their presence looming just behind him out of sight. He couldn't see them but they were there whispering in the twilight. The Divines are cruel in their great aspects, itching to rip the veil into the mortal realm. 

They would tear him apart, leaving nothing but a mangled corpse and a prophecy that echoed through all realms and realities. 

Jaskier didn't want to die. Had too much to live for, too many people to spend life with. He thought of his family, his sisters, his mother, Priscilla, the Countess, even Yennefer. 

But, his thoughts settled heavily on Geralt. He knew what they had would never be long, but damn it was wonderful. To give that up, would be Jaskier's final death.

To give up warm soft smiles. 

To give up soft tender touches. 

To give up a name that was only meant for him. 

To give up warm affection that was only meant for him. 

Truly, that would be his final death. And a final betrayal to Geralt. For lying. He sighed and shook his head. Nothing could change his path now. Much like destiny, it was set in stone. 

Perhaps...one day he'll be able to apologize. Or one afterlife. 

When he arrived at his lodgings Jaskier could hear hushed voices talking inside. Entering, he was met with Geralt and Yennefer huddling on the couch.

" Yennefer?" Jaskier managed to croak stepping through the door. 

The violet-eyed sorceress turned with a soft smile on her lips, standing and moving over to greet him. After the mountain...Yennefer had been there for him. For a short period, but the left on good terms. Yennefer seemed genuinely content to see him. 

Jaskier stood there wide-eyed as she approached him. Not realizing how colossally bad this was for him. Yennefer could probably sense the roiling power barely contained under his skin. 

As if on cue. Yennefer visibly recoiled, like a snake readying for an attack. Unsure of what she was sensing until she settled quickly. Resolve colouring her face. Geralt got up now watching this strange exchange with concerned eyes. 

" Jaskier," Yennefer began carefully. " You're dying." 

Jaskier's face must have revealed the truth, or perhaps his overly beating heart, because Geralt stared at him incredulously, angrily, and somewhat betrayed. 

" What!" Geralt growled menacingly. 

" Well, fuck me," Jaskier said somewhat exasperatedly. " I know." 

He was hurting, but Jaskier frustratedly marched over to the nearest table both tossing and pulling off his cloak and satchels. He rolled up his sleeves revealing the bruises, pulling off the bandages where his bands pulsed ominously.

Yennefer made a breathy hissing noise. Something like a strangled gasp, as she whispered something about seers. And Geralt simply stared at his arms. Before either of them could say a word Jaskier held up a hand. Halting any accusations, and angry protests. 

" Yennefer, I'm extremely glad to see you." He said honestly. "Although, these are hardly the best circumstances. And I suppose there's no time like the present for some truth." 

He glanced apologetically towards Geralt. 

A burning sensation began crawling up into his throat. And Jaskier knew his time had come. Abruptly, because of course, it would. 

He paused a moment gathering himself up. Trying to process and assemble his thoughts quickly.

" There is much to explain, and I'm afraid I don't have much time. The Divines, the beings that preside over this world and many others have had me in their clutches for a very long time. As you know, Geralt. And now you Yen. They need me to pass along a prophecy, and I have been unwilling for some time. It seems they are now, revoking my ever-dwindling free will against them to pass on their damn message." Jaskier choked slightly, feeling a cold bony hand sliding around his neck. So Death was the first to come. Tears sprung into his eyes. But he needed to continue. " So, well, long story short...I'm dying today. A new prophecy is coming to this world...and I just happen to be collateral. I'm sorry I lied, Geralt. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. It- it was selfish of me, I just wanted... a few more happy memories together." A bloodied clawed hand gripped his right arm in a tight grip. And Doom came next. " I don't have much else to say, but that I was happy to have met you. Both of you." A warm, soft, and gentle hand gripped his left arm squeezing reassuringly. And that was Destiny. 

" I'm so sorry," Jaskier whispered.

And with that Jaskier’s world exploded into light, sound, and horrible pain. 

///

When Jaskier was a baby he was visited by three very old entities. 

One was Destiny. Wreathed in gold, holding tightly a spindle in her hand. 

Two was Doom. Wrapped in red, like blood, like passion holding a pair of shears. 

And three was Death. Cloaked in black like the soil in winter, who held nothing.

They stood around the tiny baby in his cradle. Looking down upon this new creation, a new and bright light that twinkled like the stars. Destiny smiled, raising her hands up to the sky. 

" I have seen all the possibilities of his life. His destinies." She gently pulled the string off the spindle allowing it to fray and stretch. 

Doom stepped up closer to the cradle reaching down to place her finger on the string. Black rusted spots appeared upon its length marring its perfect strands. Destiny frowned.

" I have seen his dooms. His pitfalls, the smudges that will mar his destinies." Doom said softly. 

Death finally approached the silently sleeping babe. Death leaned forward touching the string with great care. 

"And I have seen his death. His finality." They spoke and said nothing more. The golden string broke off the spindle darkening at its end. It hovered in the air above the small babe swirling with ancient magic. Older than all of creation.

" Oh goodness," cried Destiny as she cooed at the baby. " Isn't he just the sweetest thing?"

Doom rolled her eyes. Twirling the shears within her fingers. 

" You say that about all of them." She said tiredly. " it's the same thing every time these fleshy humans are born." 

Destiny scoffed and Death just inclined their head. 

"Have you no joy." Destiny asked critically. 

Doom grinned.

" Of course I do, when I'm sowing the seeds of destruction." Doom smiled. " and you used to enjoy it too, what happened?" 

" It became needless, besides the times are changing. War and betrayal are not always necessary." Destiny answered angrily. 

" I'm always necessary!" cried Doom. Her red cloak billowed up in annoyance. 

Destiny blew out a breath but looked happily at the tiny babe. She would not let Doom ruin this beautiful moment of creation. She held out her hand to let the golden string of fate disappear. But, it did not budge. 

" What are you waiting for?" Doom asked impatiently. " The thread has been created, let it join the tapestry." 

Destiny looked at her sister in awe, and surprise. 

" It won't move.." Destiny answered. 

And before their eyes, the gold thread turned silver, shattering and reappearing around the babe's wrists. 

"It is as his end foresaw" Said Death quietly, for they never spoke much. " it seems a new Herald has been chosen." 

" Something big is to come," Doom said with a sinister smile. " Something I had hoped would come to pass." 

And Destiny still shocked, saddened, at this new change in fate reluctantly nodded.

///

And now Jaskier was being visited once again. He was bound as the light cradled and cascaded around him. It could not be undone. His throat and mouth opened to speak without his permission. He stilled and stood tall. He spoke in tongues of old, in tongues of new, and in tongues that would be.

Blood poured from his lips. No mortal could truly speak the divine. But today that was so.

_ "When the moon is highest and the tide is low. When the earth is caked in blood and death. When snow returns, then all will know. The hunt has begun again. _

_ By stars fire, By wolf's howl, By Zireaels effervescent glow. All shall know, all shall know. The frost will take over. _

_ The sun will take the lion's throne, The swallow will flee the fold. The wolf will now not be alone. And only berries will bleed and run cold. _

_ On the hill, the sun will rise. And the wolf bloody and bruised will howl. Stars will shine and sputter. And swallows wings will stop their flutter.  _

_ The white night, the white chill, the end of all is near.  _

_ Not only the end but a beginning too. Sown by Elder Blood do not fear.  _

_ Reborn from ice, reborn from snow, upon the ancient mountain it is known. The world will now meet its reckoning. The time of the white frost is beckoning" _

The words rippled, pulsed, and pounded. Shaking the earth. 

Stars ran and bled across the sky. The words were screamed, the words were whispered, the words tore through every mind. They were unshakeable. 

This was Jaskier's life. One of servitude. But it was his. And this was his death.

**Author's Note:**

> HOO BOY wasn't that a doozy...more to come soon... 
> 
> Oh yeah... its all coming together.


End file.
